


Run For It

by Insignias



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoos, Bad Puns, Haunted Houses, Haunted maze, M/M, Tattoos, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 08:54:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12553804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insignias/pseuds/Insignias
Summary: They came to the fork in the maze before Lance could answer and both paused, startled as a figure tracked across the path ahead in the distance, slow and lumbering, wailing a little as they swung forward.“Oh-kay,” Lance drawled, flicking a glance back to Shiro, then turned to track the figure again, but it had already disappeared into the darkness, “Guess the party's started.”





	Run For It

**Author's Note:**

> I promised someone Haunted House Shance and I delivered Zombie Maze Shance so like...half-points? Takes place in the Tattoo!AU I posted that started this spiral. Also I have to say that I'm incredibly proud of myself for finishing this. I basically had to completely rewrite it in a day, so I'm sorry if there are mistakes--it's who I am as a person. Please enjoy!

Lance was laid out on the chair, Shiro two thirds of the way through shading his arm when he finally screwed up the courage. Third time's the charm.

“Yo, Shiro.” 

“Hm?” Shiro murmured, pausing to wipe at the extra ink, his gray eyes flicked up to meet his and Lance felt his heart drop. Oh boy, look at those. 

“You busy a couple weeks from now?” He kept himself achingly still, partially because of nerves, the rest because Shiro was once again applying too many needles at once to his arm. 

“Depends on the day,” Shiro answered, spiking a dark line of blue down Lance's forearm,“Do you need a touch up?” 

“Nah nothing like that, babe,” Lance assured him, and watched, pleased, as Shiro's ears pinked up just a little from it, “Just wanted to know if you had some time off.” 

Shiro paused, dipped the tip of the tattoo machine into more ink, “It'd depend. Our days off are pretty set.”

“How about Halloween?” Lance probed, hopeful, humming out a low note to counterpoint the sharp singing ache, biting his lip until the needle pulled away. 

Shiro paused again, but in thought, “I think Allura's set up a fundraiser again.” He admitted after a moment. Lance's heart sank. 

“Aw.” He murmured, watching his hopes flush away with the ink seeping out. 

Shiro offered an apologetic look, “It's for a good cause. Amputees this year, I think.” 

Shit. “Dude, then you've definitely gotta do it.” Lance waved his hand in dismissal, “No worries, man. Silly idea anyway.” 

“Was there something you wanted to do?” Shiro asked after a moment, glancing at him; sweet and open as always, like he genuinely wanted to know. Lance shrugged, nonchalant; played it cool.

“Nah, man, I just heard about this haunted maze. They've been saying it's crazy scary and I wanted to check it out, is all.” 

“The one off of Cider Street?” Shiro spiked another line of blue up his arm, Lance watched, fascinated how something so smooth could hurt so bad. 

“Wha—yeah, dude, you've heard of it?” 

“Lance, Pidge practically lives here.” 

Lance laughed, the winced as Shiro immediately lifted his needles, waiting for him to calm. He couldn't help it; Lance was a bit of a squirmer when not properly distracted. 

“Yeah, fuck, I forgot about that. Has she finished her gremlin cave yet?” 

Shiro smiled, eyes crinkling in that adorable way. Lance wanted to trace the edges of them, “If you're talking about her reworking the piercing room to her pleasure, probably?” He bent over his work, “She and Allura spend a lot of time in there talking about it.”

“Dude,” Lance said, incredulous, “Really?” 

Shiro's ears pinked up again and he stared avidly at his work, “I know.” 

“Do they close the door?” 

“Lance.” Shiro flicked his gaze up to him, a gentle chiding. Lance scrunched his face to it, then groaned. 

“You're right, I don't want to know.” 

Shiro chuckled, shaking his head a little, and bent back to his work. The silence stretched for a while, Lance zoning in and out as the pain spiked and ebbed, humming a little when it got too much, forcing his arm to lay still. 

“We should be done here about eight o'clock,” Shiro spoke into the silence, and Lance blinked himself back into focus. 

“Hm?” He craned his neck to check the clock, “S'already eight-thirty, buddy--”

“No, I meant--” Shiro smiled at him, rueful, “Sorry, I meant the fundraiser. If you still wanted to go.” 

“Seriously?” Lance blurted, looking over at him in surprise, “Dude, are you sure? It'll be pretty late by then.”

“Then it'll be perfect time for something scary,” Shiro smiled, “If you still want to go.”

Lance beamed at him, grinning, “Dude, there is very little else I want to do than get scared out of my mind with you now.” 

Shiro laughed, cheeks heating, “Then we'll go. Send me the directions?” 

 

"Hey." Lance called, stepping forward as Shiro pulled into a parking space nearby, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He rocked on his heels as Shiro stepped out of his car, offering a little wave; the twinge in his wrist reminding him of his still healing tattoos. Most of the peeling had rubbed off already, but the gesture had become a habit onto itself, tripping him up every couple of thoughts, especially with Shiro offering him a tired smile as he joined him, "Long day?"

"A little." Shiro agreed, locking his car behind him, "Had a couple who wanted to go off-script." He rolled his shoulder, massaging a kink out of it as Lance nodded toward the entrance of the maze to the right of them, gaze attentive on the older man.

"You tell them what's up?" Lance asked, waggling his eyebrows.

Shiro chuckled, "It was mostly color changes, so not too bad. I didn't have to throw anyone out this time."

"Aw," Lance sighed, "Those are my favorite."

"You just like hearing about what Allura does to them." Shiro flicked an amused look at him as they stepped into line.

Lance shrugged, unapologetic, "I mean, she doesn't hold back the punches."

"Sometimes literally." Shiro sighed, give his neck one more squeeze before turning his attention back to Lance; calm and assessing. "Are they healing up all right?"

Lance smiled, rueful. "Pretty good, I think. I always forget how much it hurts for the first week." He offered his arms for Shiro's inspection, turning them to show the last of the color and shading; the blue waves foaming up his inner arm, the dolphin riding the surf, "The peeling's not done yet, though."

"But it's healing well,"Shiro remarked, calloused fingers gentle as they moved his arm so he could see in the fading light, "The peeling should be over in a week or so. And you know you can wear a jacket, right?" He eyed the goosebumps on Lance's arms, "A loose one?"

Lance laughed, shaking his head, "And risk not showing off all this on my body? No way."

Shiro's gaze flicked away and could have sworn he saw those ears pink up, but the teller was clearing their throat and Lance started, fumbling for the tickets in his back pocket, grinning at the teller as she offered brief instructions in return.

"You ready?" He asked, giving Shiro a lopsided grin as they slipped through the first of the towering cornstalks directed through by the guide. The path ahead was lit with false candles, their flickering light casting long shadows, "Wanna hold my hand?"

Shiro laughed, "Not yet," He told him, feeling his heart rate kick up as darkness enveloped them further, the last of the sunset purpling the sky.

"Mmkay." Lance hummed with a wink, "Just let me know when, dude. I'll protect you."

Shiro quirked a smile at him, indulgent, even as an eerie chill began to settle over them as they started down the central path.

“Have you done this before?” He asked, “Any idea what we're getting into here?”

"I have no idea," Lance admitted, shrugging his shoulders, looking far too relaxed for the odd sounds beginning to filter down the path, "I figured the best part would be the surprise."

"What kind of surprise?" Shiro muttered, dubious, fine-tuned to any sound in the in dark, the swish of the cornstalks unfamiliar and setting him on edge.

They came to the fork in the maze before Lance could answer and both paused, startled as a figure tracked across the path ahead in the distance, slow and lumbering, wailing a little as they swung forward.

“Oh-kay,” Lance drawled, flicking a glance back to Shiro, then turned to track the figure again, but it had already disappeared into the darkness, “Guess the party's started.” 

A loud moan echoed from their immediate right, jolting them enough that Lance almost backed into Shiro, stumbling over his feet.

“Holy shi--” 

The creature turned to them, deliberate if slow, and growled as they recovered.

“Fuck me, it's a zombie maze.” Lance spat, locking up. The creature tilted it's head, the stalk of an eyeball swinging slowly, grunting as it parsed them. Then it flung itself toward them.

“Shit!” Lance swore and shoved Shiro ahead of him, bolting down the opposite path, “Shit! Fuck! Go, go, go!” 

Shiro ran, caught up in Lance's panic and the pounding of footsteps behind him, the zombie shrieking and chasing them through one intersection, then another, intent on its prey. It only slowed when they managed to take two turns in opposite directions, its shrieks and grunts quieting once it couldn't see them. They finally slowed when the noises began to fade, the zombie shuffling away, agonizingly slow. 

Lance deflated at its departure, sucking in air as quickly and quietly as possible, twitching with every rustle of sound, even Shiro's movements as they both caught their breath.

“You all right?” Shiro asked as Lance scrubbed a hand through his hair. Lance grimaced, ducked away from his gaze.

“Yeah, dude, no worries.” He answered with false cheer, belied by his shaking hands, the roughness of his smile, “Just got a little spooked. It's dark in here, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Shiro answered, wondering what he could say. 

Lance straightened after a moment, all smooth bravado; thumbs tucking into his pockets to hide their tremor.

“Ready?” He jerked his head toward their hideaway's opening, “Let's see what hell's got for us next.” 

His cockiness lasted until their next encounter, a large, bulky creature that roared at them and pounded through the maze, Lance tripping over his feet with a yell to get away, Shiro hauling him to his feet so they could run. This zombie, it seemed, stuck to the wider portion of the maze, halting at the first intersection when the pathway narrowed and letting them both continue unhindered. Lance shook under his hand, staring furtively at the path behind him, as if convinced the zombie would burst through the cornstalks and trap them there.

“Lance,” Shiro murmured, hand still on Lance's arm, hot and tensed. A part of him was yelling at him to quit, his arm was still healing, it must hurt, but the rest wanted to pull him closer, soothe him and tell him it was all right, “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Lance hissed, not looking at him, “Yes, I'm fine, they're not real.” 

“Real or not, they're pretty frightening,” Shiro told him, rubbing a calloused thumb over Lance's overheated skin to soothe him, watching as Lance flinched at his words, scrunched up his nose. 

“It's not a big deal,” Lance sighed, rocking his head to the side until his neck cracked, grimacing, “I'm just not big on dead bodies chasing me.”

Shiro cocked a brow, “You didn't know this was a zombie-infested maze?” 

Lance looked uncomfortable. “No, I just heard Hunk talking about it because Keith wanted to go and he didn't.” He offered a sheepish smile, “He wanted me to check it out and see if he could handle it, but I don't think he knew either.” 

Shiro's heart sank at that. He'd thought this had been something for them—something Lance had wanted to take Shiro to, as odd as the request was. He'd been reading too much into it, then, maybe Lance had just wanted a friend. It was a sobering thought, one that let him release Lance's arm, tuck his hand back into his vest pocket. 

“Anyway,” Lance was saying, jolting Shiro back to reality, “We should get going. The maze won't solve itself.” 

“Yeah,” Shiro muttered, quiet, and followed him. 

They continued in silence, Lance fidgeting, Shiro trailing behind, offering weary smiles when Lance glanced back at him, reassuring even as he did his best to pull back, a weight in his chest that he knew had been silly. 

They continued in silence for a while, Lance drawn quiet into himself and Shiro much the same; trying to beat down his disappointment with the firm knowledge that this mustn't change anything. That anything he'd thought about, idly, quietly, in the dark of his apartment while he sketched the first design of Lance's tattoos, the memory of his hot skin against Shiro's fingers, the quiet sounds he made when he was feeling too much, was to be locked away. Tucked in the back of his mind and removed from his fore-brain, so that he could continue to be something to Lance. A friend, if nothing else. 

\--------------

“Oh my god,” Lance groaned, hand to his mouth, horror-stricken, “Oh my god, that is—what the ever loving fuck is this?” He looked sick, frozen where he stood as he watched the pile of blood-soaked arms and legs moan and wave, contorting in a wave of flesh and matter. It didn't look human, it didn't sound human, grunting and shrieking, hands crawling at the space where they stood. Shiro felt bile rise in his throat, the flickering candle light brighter than the pathways, making revealing just enough of the monstrosities features to make you wonder what couldn't be seen. 

Lance shuddered next to him, eyes wide, his throat bobbing as he swallowed and tried not to be sick.

“Come on,” Shiro grunted, grabbing his arm and pulling him down the nearest path, uncaring if it led them back to the zombie they'd just shaken off. He'd punched that thing in the face if it meant Lance stopped heaving for breath behind him, choking and sputtering as he stumbled to keep up. 

Shiro stopped on a dimlit path and pulled Lance to him, tucking him under his chin as Lance shook into him, shuddering for breath, the sharp pinpricks of his fingers digging into his chest and back a welcome pain to counterpoint the memory of Lance's face, the look in his eyes. 

“It's okay,” Shiro murmured to him, feeling Lance tense against him, “It's okay. It's not there anymore. It can't hurt you.” 

He stroked his hand up and down Lance's back, his prosthetic useless with comfort, a fact that made him curse it, just a little. It took Lance several moments to soften, his shuddering easing with each breath, slowing and growing deeper as time sliced away. 

“Fuck,” Lance finally whispered, hot breath sluicing against Shiro's neck, his hold flexing on Shiro, “Fuck, what the fuck kind of place is this.” 

“A fucked up one,” Shiro answered, unable to help the little quirk to his lips, growing when Lance snorted against him, “Seriously. That's not something you see every day.” 

“No,” Lance muttered into him, his trembling easing just a little as Shiro rubbed his back, “No, that's just too weird.” 

“Almost makes you wonder if it's supposed to be there.” Shiro muttered, and Lance groaned into him, “Don't say that. Please, I need it to not be real.” 

Shiro winced, rubbed an apology down Lance's back, “It isn't. They wouldn't stop chasing us if it wasn't.”

Lance hiccuped a laugh. Shiro felt his smile against his skin, “You're trying to be reassuring but, buddy, I gotta tell you that is not helping.” 

“Sorry,” Shiro told him, embarrassed, “I'll stop.”

“It's okay,” Lance sighed, pressing his face to Shiro's chest, “You're doing fine with everything else.”

Then he groaned, loud and frustrated, “This is not how I wanted this night to go.”

Shiro blinked, confused, tucking his head to look down at Lance, even though his face was currently buried and out of his sight, “What do you mean?”

“Shiro,” Lance sighed, “This was a date.” 

“Oh.” Shiro said, “Oh.” 

Lance laughed, fingers loosening in his vest, “It's a shitty one now, I know, but to be fair, I wasn't expecting a zombie maze.” 

Shiro was still blinking from this revelation, a little stunned. His head hadn't quiet caught up, “But I thought this was to help out Hunk?” 

Lance sighed under him, kept his face hidden, “It was an excuse, dude. I knew Hunk could ask Keith for tickets, maybe get some kind of VIP experience. I mean, I know haunted houses are kind of a lame way to start things but it's Halloween, man. I figured at the very least I'd get to maybe hold your hand for a little while.

“Also I didn't want to pressure you if you didn't want to go on an actual date. You know, keep your options open.” 

He finally looked up, a little red-eyed, and offered a rueful smile, “Don't think there's many of those left now, huh?”

Shiro stared at him, feeling helpless and tripped up, as if Lance had stuck a foot out and knocked him to the ground. Soft ground, warm and with a stuttering heartbeat as Shiro didn't answer him, his smile fading.

“There's a lot left,” Shiro blurted, as Lance began to pull away, gaze dropping, “I mean—I could, I could ask you to dinner? If you want?” 

“Dinner,” Lance repeated, brows furrowing, “You want to ask me to dinner?” 

“Yes?” Shiro answered, hesitant. Lance's expression was incredulous, but even he could see that tell-tale smile, creeping back. 

“We're in a maze full of the presumably rotting undead right now, Shiro, and you're hungry?

“Well, maybe not right now,” Shiro admitted, feeling a flush creep right up to his ears, “But sometime?” 

“That's amazing,” Lance told him, pulling close again, “Are you scared of anything?” 

“Lots of things,” Shiro blurted, unmoored, held together by the press of Lance's chest against his, how he leaned into him, hot and steady, “But I like spending time with you.” 

“Yeah?” Lance murmured, too close and not close enough, his blue eyes dark in the half-light, “It's not just that you're putting a masterpiece on my skin?” 

Shiro's brain stuttered, restarted, he felt himself swallow, “No?” 

“That's awesome,” Lance crooned at him, “Because I want us to spend a lot of time together after I'm all healed.”

Lance gaze flicked to the side, then back to him, bright and without fear, “But first, we gotta run.”

“Huh?” Shiro sputtered, but Lance had grabbed his hand, dragging him forward as the zombie creeping up behind them groaned in rattling frustration, it's rotten fingers grasping where they'd been hidden only moments before. 

“Come on!” Lance told him, coughing a laugh; careening through the stalk-lined paths, grip tight on Shiro's hand, “Fuck zombies!” 

They ran and didn't stop, because turning the next bend brought them to another, grunting in surprise as Lance crashed into it, stumbling through an apology as the creature hunched to its feet and burst after them, roaring a challenge. 

“Go, go, go,” Lance wheezed, squeezing tight. Shiro threading his fingers through his automatically, their palms sweaty with effort, “I am not dying from zombie bites today, motherfuckers.” 

They zigged around another bend, avoiding the zombies chasing them by sheer determination. Lance flagging after so many bursts of frenetic energy, Shiro held together by stamina and adrenaline alone. 

When Shiro dared a glance back, they'd managed to snag another zombie in their wake, their efforts too loud and noticeable not to trigger it. A fresh shot of adrenaline flooded him at the sight and he was rewarded for his trouble with a sickening crunch of pumpkin, tripping him up and almost sending him headfirst into Lance. 

“Fucking shit,” He swore as he crashed to the ground, grunting with the impact and the horror of being caught—that he'd fucked up, that they'd be bitten and eaten and Lance would--

“Move!” Lance snarled in his ear, the hand on the back of his vest vicious and taunt, dragging him to his feet with a strength Shiro couldn't fathom Lance had, “Get going, go!”  
And he was pushing him, suddenly at Shiro's back, shoving him through the tall blocks marking the exit, stumbling out in a rush of flailing limbs and shocked shouts, Lance skidding through at the last second, a single clawing hand grasping once, before pulling back slowly into the dark. 

“Oh my god,” Lance wheezed, figners still tight in Shiro's vest, “Oh my god, we're not doing that again.” 

“Agreed,” Shiro sighed, breathing deep, heart pounding in his ears, adrenaline and relief. He started when a volunteer drew close to check on them and offered a waning smile, feeling himself flush a little as they gave the two of them an amused look and offered a spot off to the side to sit and recover. 

Shiro turned to Lance, who nodded and grinned at the woman, tight but clearly pleased with himself. They sat there for a few minutes, catching their breath, fingers interlocked once more. Lance sighed, finally, and Shiro felt him relax against him, the immediate danger finally over, at least. 

“We should get going,” Shiro told him after the silence had stretched to several minutes, as volunteer's curious glances began to lengthen into stares; even though the effort to say that was almost too much, Lance's presence at his side already soaking into him, making him want more. 

“Mm,” Lance answered, then sighed, “Yeah.”

It took them several more minutes to finally get to their feet, reluctant and sore now that the adrenaline had ebbed. They made their way slowly to the parking lot on the far side, still trapped in each other's fingers.

As they reached his car, Shiro paused; his grip on Lance's hand squeezing just a little. Lance darted a glance back, nervous, questioning.

“All those ghosts, Lance,” Shiro sighed, suddenly mournful. He tugged at Lance's hand, bringing it to his chest, pressing it there. Lance stared. “All those ghosts.” He ducked his head low, peeked at Lance through impossibly long lashes, “And I still don't know if I have a boo.”

“Oh my god.” Lance wheezed, breath punching out of him; the air crystallizing, “Oh my god, really?” 

Shiro looked at him, batting his eyelashes coquettishly, until Lance pulled himself toward Shiro, barring his teeth at Shiro's grin, “There weren't even any ghosts in there,” He growled, and kissed him. It was soft, gentle, until it wasn't; Shiro opening for Lance as he hummed approval, teeth dragging across his lower lip until he bit, startling a sound out of Shiro. When he pulled back, he looked distinctly pleased with himself. 

“Will you be my boo, Lance?” Shiro asked, teasing but open, honest in his request. Lance looked up at him, eyebrows raised. 

He let the silence drag on almost a moment too long, before he winked at him, all mischief and daring, “Sure,” He told him, dragging a finger across Shiro's lips, “I'll be your boo, baby. I'll haunt you all night long.” 

“Jesus,” Shiro gasped a laugh, pressing his forehead to Lance as he grinned, biting his lip, “You're unboolievable.” 

Lanced laughed, kissed him again, “Just you wait 'til you see my booty.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment if you're so inclined!


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